The conception of this post began with me thoroughly bothering the sweet barista at Starbucks (the only place open in this town after 6 pm on a Sunday, don’t get me started!) about the difference between an americano-misto and a decáf misto, which is obviously like the difference between the earth and Jupiter, so needless to say if it wasn’t for this great view of 4 older men reading their books/newspapers/stocks, I would be very on edge right now, so let’s all take a deep breath and remember: YOLO.
And since you only live once (this expression is so obvious it’s comical and annoying all at once) – well, you better make your 24th year THE BEST EVER. No pressure, silly.
And now that I’m 24, I’m alive and kickin’ on the ol’ Twitter, the Book (like a good neighbor, Facebook is always there), and actively using Instagram as the new Photoshop, because hello, Photoshop is expensive and confusing. I also got a grown-up job and I intend to work to live, but hopefully not live to work.
Props to Instagram. Insta-glam! Insta-awesome! Insta-frenz!
When I was 18, I thought that by the time I was 24, I’d be President of the United States and if that didn’t work out I’d maybe be married (I was a lot thinner then) and if that didn’t work I’d just have an awesome blog. So now it’s clear which path I took. (What is that poem Frost wrote? The path less traveled is littered with blogs?) The Presidency seems overrated anyway. I mean living in a WHITE house, ALL the time? You can’t pull that stuff after Labor Day.
So on this here birthday I am celebrating with Swarovski crystal earrings (by default, wearing Swarovski makes me officially trendy-elegant), gorgeous flowers, and the fact that I’ve made it to 24 with no regrets.*
Goals for my 24th year:
1. Visit someplace new (like a new city, not like a new public restroom)
2. Get accepted to a graduate school of decent repute. NOT high repute. I’m not snobby.
3. Live the normal Christian life, day by day, bit by bit.
4. Have a “green tea month” and do yoga. Publicize it. Massively.
5. Wear patterned scrubs that would make Florence Nightingale proud.
The possibilities are endless, but the years are not. YOLO, y’all.
*Regrets, I think, are just things you can do better next time.